Andrew Turco - A year in Cambodia

Since some visitors purposely time their trips to Cambodia to coincide with Water Festival, I wanted to make sure that I was around to see at least some of the festivities here in Phnom Penh. But with a long weekend and visitors in town, it also seemed like the perfect opportunity to take a trip elsewhere in Cambodia. I’ll be honest in saying that I wanted to go to the coast to do some hiking, beaching, and exploring, but I was vetoed by my visitors and we instead headed to Siem Reap to visit the Angkor temples. I obviously understand the desire to see the temples when most likely only making a single trip to the country, and now you can clearly understand the huge dilemma that the tourist industry in Cambodia is now facing as it tries to make the positive effects of tourism extend beyond the area on the Northern edge of Lake Tonle Sap. They’ve done such a good job promoting the temples and actually bringing visitors back to Cambodia within the past few years that it’s, unfortunately, become nearly impossible to lure people to see any other part of the country.

But anyway, we awoke on Saturday at the crack of 11:30 and quickly hurried to go, as the last bus for Siem Reap leaves at 1:00 (no buses travel at night here). Before boarding, we literally ran to get dumplings from the Chinese dumpling hall down the block and proceeded to run back to the bus before it left. As I boarded, carrying the bag of dumplings in my hands, the “bus monitor” (not the driver but a second employee who collects tickets, coordinates stops, and generally ensures that everything runs smoothly) stopped me and asked what I was carrying. Knowing that he was referring to the dumplings, which were unusually pungent, I simply said that it was just some food and proceeded to board the bus before he had time to think about whether he was going to let me bring it on. We sat down, sweating like crazy from our run for food, and started opening up the containers to eat. They tasted so good. After about ten minutes, though, the bus monitor was back and told us to “no eat,” pointing to his nose and making a face of disgust. We subtly looked around and noticed that everyone around us had their noses in the collars of their shirts. Granted, they were incredibly smelly for mere dumplings, but we were dumbfounded as this whole incident occurred in the context of a city that smells like sewer every other block. Of course their logic didn’t really seem to make much sense to us. Not in spite of them but because we really believed it was the most effective way to get rid of the smell, we quickly scarfed down the rest of the food so that the smell wouldn’t be brewing in plastic bags by our feet for the next six hours.

We arrived that evening without any further problems, dumplings-related or otherwise. We hadn’t made any reservations for anywhere to stay, though, since the switch from the beach plan to Siem Reap was fairly last minute. Last time I was there, I stayed with Mel in her house near the temples, and tourist season had not begun yet. When we arrived this time, Brendan had already actually been there for the past week, combining work on a story with some sightseeing, but his hotel was completely full. We resorted to simply stopping in at random places. We soon found a fairly decent looking hotel, but obviously, a lot of other people ahead of us had also thought it looked pretty nice. It was full.

Just as I noticed last time, though, the residents in Siem Reap seem to be much more impressed by a foreigner knowing some Khmer than they do in Phnom Penh. Even though you’d think they’d be pretty blasé with foreigners coming through since it’s such a popular destination, they always react much more enthusiastically to my small bit of Khmer than anyone in Phnom Penh does. Maybe it happens that way because most foreigners who come through are simply tourists, while many of the foreigners in Phnom Penh live and work here (and are therefore more likely to be learning or know the language). I don’t know. But, either way, after a few words of Khmer, the person at the first hotel insisted on saving us time we would otherwise spend going door to door and offered to help us find some place. We should have been suspicious when he slowly went further and further down his list of places to call and started apologizing that many places were full since we had arrived during the busy season. But we went along since we didn’t really have any better options and reluctantly checked into the Heart of Angkor.

The Heart of Angkor (which should really probably be spelled with a capital THE) is located right across the street from what we gathered was a less than reputable nightclub pumping out all kinds of tunes from its black light-lit façade. Our room was less than stellar, but we had found a place and didn’t really care. After negotiating, the price was set at $13 a night, about average for a guest house in Cambodia but ridiculously overpriced for the quality of this one. Yeah, we had to ask for toilet paper from the front desk because there wasn’t any in the room, and I’m not convinced anyone had cleaned the room since the French first rediscovered Angkor Wat.

Before officially checking in, we checked out the room, and came back down to negotiate. Originally, we were quoted $20, but then the guy at the front desk told us that he could give us a discount if we were willing to take room with a fan instead of an air-conditioned room. Elena and I are used to sleeping in this climate without air conditioners anyway, and Lev was fine with it as well. We acquiesced, expecting him to move us to a room without A/C. He didn’t, so we asked if we needed to switch to get a fan-only room in the interest of not getting charged the higher rate in the end or of having to move later. He then launched into this whole explanation about how he would just move a fan into our room. Okay. He never did, and we took advantage of the A/C the whole time. I’m still not really sure what it was all about. But no complaints.

Anyway, we proceeded to go out for a late dinner and check out the town. Since I had stayed at Mel’s the previous time and was only there for a few precious days, which I spent wholly on the temples, I was curious to experience what Siem Reap itself was like. Exploring the city, I figured, would allow me to do something on the trip I hadn’t yet done. It’s actually quite a nice looking town. Architecturally, there are lots of older buildings for the size of the city, and it’s a small enough town that it has a certain charm as it hugs the banks of its small river, easily crossed by foot bridges and so much of a contrast to the Mekong in Phnom Penh. In the Pub Street area, it felt eerily unlike anything in Cambodia. Everything was sparkling clean, neatly laid out, and filled with tourists well into the night. It was cool and weird at the same time. I felt like I was really on vacation, but also like I was in “bizarro world” Cambodia. Anyway, after dinner, we strolled along the river and launched a little flower and paper candle float into the river as part of the water festival festivities. We watched the flame slowly meander down the river and then headed back to our guesthouse, exhausted and ready for our early adventures the next day.

In our room, we had two beds and three people. Lev and I figured we’d allow Elena her beauty sleep and give her one of the beds and share the other. Well, this was not okay with Elena, who insisted that we could not sleep in the same bed together and that she was going to share with one of us. But we couldn’t figure out how to divide up. Finally, we decided that Elena and I would share the first night, and Lev and her would share the second night. Then, I don’t remember exactly who, but someone must have suggested that we all sleep together so that no one was lonely, half jokingly and half seriously. Well, next thing you know, the lights were out, and the three of us were sharing a single twin bed while the other one lay completely vacant in the room as we fell asleep to the bass of the disco across the street. Apparently, I was too “wide” because I slept on my stomach and not on my side like the other two.

In the morning, we were up before sunrise to head out to the floating village of Chong Kneas. I wanted to try to squeeze at least one new sight in while we were in Siem Reap since I had just visited the temples a month before. This was the one. We headed out of town in a tuk-tuk to the bank of Lake Tonle Sap, the largest lake in Southeast Asia. It was a very pleasant early morning ride, and we hopped onto a boat to see the floating houses, stores, schools, and even playgrounds that are mounted on movable barges and which migrate depending on the level of the lake (according to the wet or dry season). Our boat driver, Vit, spoke very good English, and we started chatting. I got to drive for a bit and pretty much embarrassed myself with my arcs back and forth across the surface of the water and my inability to keep us on a straight path. The long, skinny hull with a virtual plow hanging off the stern for a rudder didn’t exactly handle like the Whaler I used to use at LSC everyday. Anyway, towards the end, Vit informed me that he’d be visiting Phnom Penh at some point and that he was hoping we could exchange numbers. I gave him mine, and he gave me the number of one his friend’s phones since he doesn’t have a phone.

I’ve exchanged numbers numerous times since I’ve been here, but Vit was different. He’s called about every single hour since then to ask “what I’m up to.” Then, as I’m half way through my answer, which sounds pretty much exactly the same as the one I gave thirty minutes before, he interrupts and says that he’s very busy and must go. His constant calling, I hate to say, has gotten really annoying, but I’m having trouble screening him since he doesn’t have his own phone and therefore just uses whoever’s he’s with.

I’ve gotten to the point where I can’t even pick up any numbers that aren’t already programmed into my phone anymore, and it’s verging on creepy. Objectively, though, I feel bad because I think he’s really just extremely bored. It’s something that I’ve begun to notice with a lot of teenagers and young 20-something Cambodian men. To completely over generalize, there’s nothing to do and few stimulating jobs available for them, so if they can’t afford to go to school, they’re bored out of their mind staring out at space all day. In Vit’s case, I think that’s the reason for the constant phone calls, which I find annoying because they interrupt me when I’m trying to get things done. For him, it’s an activity to keep entertained. He’s also indicated that every night seems to be a drinking night for him. For others, I wouldn’t be surprised if boredom was the root of some of the crime that happens throughout the city, especially for the wealthier Khmers who are less likely to need the income but are probably even more bored to have money, possibly an education, and few chores but nothing interesting to do.

Anyway, though, we headed back to Siem Reap by about 9:30 AM and rented bikes with which to explore the temples. Best decision ever, if I do say so myself. I already knew the lay of the land, more or less, from the last time I was up there, and riding bikes was so much more enjoyable than hiring a tuk-tuk (or I imagine than being in a van). We went at our own pace, we got some exercise, and we simply got to enjoy riding bikes in addition to seeing the temples.

Towards the end of the day, Angkor Wat was the one last main temple we still hadn’t hit. Having spent a lot of time there on my last visit, I let Elena and Lev head over there on their own, and I ventured to see if I could make it to one of the further removed temples before sunset. I wouldn’t have traded Lev and Elena’s company during the weekend for anything, but I think that was probably the most enjoyable part of my day, as I peddled on my own through the roads that led away from the crowded temples. There was nice late afternoon light, and I passed still-lush rice fields on my way. It felt completely peaceful. And I think part of it is that, other than walking, I’m never under my own power here or in control of my means of transportation. I felt completely free and wonderfully alone. The temple, Pre Rup, was also great. It reminded me in design of a mini Angkor Wat, the way its towers were arranged and rose up from the base, and the views over the rice fields were worth the climb to the top.

By the time the three of us met up again at Angkor Wat, the sun had just set, and it was getting dark. There are no streetlights by the temples, and the roads are quite good but not pothole-free. We mostly rode via the headlights of the parade of cars, vans, buses, tuk-tuks, and motos exiting the temple area and had only the occasional hiccup when I’d hit a dirt pothole and yet another part of my rented bike would fly off into the woods. We were almost back (and back in the paved, lit area where some of the hotels are located) when my bike finally gave in. I paused to make sure Elena and Lev had made it through the traffic up to where I was, but when I went to start again, I pushed my foot against the pedal only to have it spin to the bottom without any resistance. The chain hadn’t come off. I had snapped it in half.

But all of our adventures of the day and the fact that we were leaving at 5:30 in the morning the next day to get a boat back to Phnom Penh didn’t matter to Elena that night. Whatever the opposite of the fun police is, that’s what she was. (It can’t be the un-fun police). Anyway, we were all together for only a short period of time, and we were going to take advantage of and enjoy each other’s company. So out we went. We got to meet up with Brendan for a brief time at one place before he called it a night. We then proceeded to indulge in Western-style mixed drinks and shots that are rare for me to have here. The bar we chose for the end of our night closed at around two, but they let us and a number of other people still hanging out at their outdoor tables stay and enjoy the rest of the night after they packed up and shut down the inside.

Even on this most touristy of Siem Reap streets, though, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that, as soon as the bartender closed up and put the trash on the street, a woman appeared, ready to go through the trash and pick out anything of value. I also noticed that the security guard kindly brought her a box from the side of the building to pile her bottles in and make them easier to carry. And I was again reminded that one can never really fully escape the rest of Cambodia.

The boat ride back the next morning was great. The ferry connection between Siem Reap and Phnom Penh exists because the road conditions used to be so bad that a bus just wasn’t efficient. Now, a few years later, the route remains but is mostly frequented by visitors, as its ticket price has remained unchanged while the bus lines have now significantly undercut it. Sitting on the roof, we got five hours of Cambodian river views, and we got to be outside rather than inside a bus for the whole trip back. It was the realization of the feeling I always have when taking a train and thinking how much better it would be if you could somehow remove the top or at least open the windows. We even made it back in one hour less than the bus takes.

Elena and Lev left for the airport a few hours later, and at 4:15, I made the risky decision to nap for a few hours to try to rebuild my energy before getting to some grading that evening. At 7:30 the next day, I woke up having probably slept the most I’ve ever slept at one time in my entire life.

The trip was great, and I feel satisfied that I got another visit of Angkor in. I think I’m good for the year. Angkor is written up in many publications as being ambiguously either a huge success story or a warning of what can happen when you “mis-develop” an area. It’s brought lots of jobs to Cambodians, has successfully put Cambodia on the tourist map, has caused the clearance of mines in the area to occur, and has generally improved the living standard in Siem Reap. But at the same time, people are crawling all over the temples and wearing them down, and the temple complex itself has been leased by a Thai company (meaning that Cambodia doesn’t reap the profit from the temples themselves). Lots of the other dependent businesses’ profits seem mainly to exit the country (ie: hotel and tour package money), and Siem Reap seems to be developing at an uncontrollable speed with almost no respect for how the development will effect the environment or appeal to potential travelers down the road.

Overall, it’s hard for me to pass judgment on Siem Reap’s development, but I came away the second time less impressed by the area and seeing it more as a warning of what could happen to the rest of the country as it stabilizes and develops as fast as it can for immediate benefit. In Siem Reap, I saw what I hear was the past of Acapulco or Cancun, places utterly beautiful and desirable that, as a result, became so overdeveloped that they’ve lost any of their appeal beyond a cheap place to go for warm weather and a tan. I’m all for the rest of Cambodia developing as well and certainly don’t want to preserve the country in its current state in the interest of it being unique and different from the rest of the globalizing world, but at the same time, I kind of do like some of the results that occur from the country remaining the way it is.

Back when I was visiting Elena in Laos in October, we were talking about the issues in Burma, which were very much in the news worldwide at the time, though I assume have mostly faded elsewhere, even if are still very much talked about here. What’s going on there doesn’t only seem mildly bad but actually seems incredibly awful, yet there’s something very inherently appealing about going to some place that’s been cut off from the rest of the world. Feeling complete disgust at the government (people still aren’t allowed to gather in groups bigger than five) and a fascination to go to this place because of conditions that have resulted from the regime seem completely incongruous. In the end, we finally determined in one of those great late night talks before bed that it was not the lack of the development, repression, or lack of connection with the outside world but the maintenance of a distinctive identity that created the appeal.

On that front, my growing criticism of Siem Reap perhaps derives from the development’s lack of care for the sense of place or culture. My fear is that development is being pursued too quickly and with such short-term interests in mind that the country will loose its whole aura and therefore end up shooting itself in the foot down the road. Already, plans are underway to eliminate the small fishing villages where we boated through in Siem Reap to build a big port. Kampot, known to be the most picturesque town in the country and located on the undeveloped coast, is slated to get a huge port and adjacent development right next to the old city, which will most likely suffocate the whole feel of the current city. In the end, its perhaps not the development but the lack of planning and care that goes into it that I feel regretful about, though, to a certain extent, I also have to feel that development is development and as long as it’s benefiting Cambodians, why should it matter in the grand scheme of things?